MonicaPiece7

Leaving things behind becomes personal as one enters the teaching profession. Fears must be “gone after’” and squelched. Entertaining becomes paramount, as evidenced by the singing, the dancing, the drawing, and even the rapping I have showcased for my students. The students know nothing of my shyness and my insecurity, because engaging them is my sole focus. My fears and inhibitions are forced out of my classroom—that is until my plan time when the insecurity creeps back. It at those times, I realize just how much of me I leave behind in order to do my job and at times live my life. Who is the real me? Outside of school I am not the life-of-the-party, I am reserved and quiet; however, when I am in my classroom I am “on,” in 90 minute increments. It is really no wonder that I am exhausted by day’s end. Occasionally my students hear from someone (usually one of their parents and former classmate of mine) that I was neither out-going nor popular in high school and college and they are amazed. They see me as the woman on the stage and they believe that is all there is to her—No back story. No personal life—just teacher. Being someone I am not, leaving behind who I am, and pulling out all the energy I have to perpetuate the façade is at times just too much. I love teaching, but it is a lot like being a saleswoman without the joys of the bonus check. Functioning in a schizophrenic-like life-style is a challenge. My sister teases me about this quick change, for she has witnessed it when we have been out gallivanting around Wichita and one of my students notices me. With just a quick, “Hey, Swift!” called my way I become another person. I cease to be //Monica// or //Buddy,// and I become Miss Swift, High School Language Arts Teacher. I assume the role of inquisitor asking about his new job, his love life, or anything else I can remember specifically about him. I never expect the students to ask about me and they never disappoint. I do not intend to paint myself as a selfless creature, I do love to talk and like most I am more than pleased to discuss myself, but that is a topic I reserve for my friends. Even my co-workers get the “fun” stories, the stories involving the misadventures of my dogs or something humorous I heard on the radio. I do not share of myself, because I truly believe someone would have to love me in order to be interested in my story – and trust me the people I work with do not love. Though the lifestyle sounds false, I am good at it. I grew up as a pastor’s daughter, meaning that small talk and a welcoming smile were always expected. I have honed this skill and frankly I am a master. Boyfriends’ parents always adore me and I rarely have to say a word beyond complimenting their son. This skill – this leave //you// at the door motto, works for every occasion. The downside to this life is that I only spend about eight hours a day being Monica.
 * “What’s Left Behind” **